


An Infallible Guide

by blondeonblonde



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Lewis (TV)
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Gen, HP: EWE, Muggles, Pre-Slash, absolutely not a case fic, the mysteries of James Hathaway past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondeonblonde/pseuds/blondeonblonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry Potter, Muggle Liaison Auror, is sent to Oxford to investigate a suspicious death he runs into a familiar blonde haired man working for the muggle Police. Puzzlingly Malfoy doesn’t acknowledge his presence and Harry is desperate to solve the mystery of his new identity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Puzzling Policeman

**'Clearly the person who accepts the Church as an infallible guide will believe whatever the Church teaches.'** **-Thomas Aquinas**

 

Harry apparated into the bar of The White Hippogriff, Oxford's least populated wizard tavern, muttering curse words at the scant instructions of his boss. Gawain Robards had pulled Harry into his office barely minutes after he’d arrived at work and thrust a case file into his hands, pushing him towards the apparition station.

“Oxford. Murder. Now. Get it checked, Potter, and make sure the paperwork is fully completed this time” he had growled, the sound of his gnarled voice ringing through the busy office.

Taking in the gloomy atmosphere of the tavern and shaking off the slight after-effects of apparition, Harry ordered himself a pumpkin juice and sat down in a secluded booth to glance through the file. There were only a few scraps of parchment and a memo dated that morning stating:

_Body found in Cherwell River, possible connection to case codenamed ‘Daisyroot’._

_Investigating force: Oxford CID. Chief investigating officer: Inspector Hathaway/ Inspector Lewis._

_Auror to investigate._

The ‘Daisyroot’ case was a tedious sting operation trying to catch a group of potion smugglers that Harry had no interest in at all, but was Robards’ pet project that month. He had already been sent all over the country that week chasing non-existent leads and less than helpful witnesses.

He sighed and downed his remaining juice. Not a lot to go on, typical. One of these days wizards would actually learn to keep accurate records, or perhaps even computerise them. There was nothing for it. He’d just have to do what he usually did as Muggle Liaison Auror– turn up, talk for a bit and make it up as he went along. ‘Oh, and fully do my paperwork, Robards’ he muttered under his breath.

He had only been to Oxford a few times before but managed to locate the scene easily due to the large number of flashing lights and a surreptitiously cast seeking charm.

He pushed through a small crowd of morbid onlookers, flashed a security pass at a stern looking constable and ducked under the police tape closing off the river bank. Just at the edge of the bank he could see the waterlogged figure of a middle aged man sprawled out on the long reedy grass, dressed in a suit with brown curly hair covering his eyes. Gristle and flesh spilled from a wound on his torso and the rusty stain of blood permeated the entire front of his once cream shirt.

A pathologist in a white scene suit was crouched over the body, her short blonde hair brushing her forehead in the breeze of the morning. 

The scene reminded him of so many others he had visited. A dead muggle, the police and amongst them, Harry, a wizard who didn’t belong…..No! Make that two wizards! Harry felt a jolt of adrenalin as a man with a familiar face swept into view. It couldn’t be though….surely not _here._

Harry stared, continued to stare, dissecting the image in front of him. He felt dizzy with confusion, his two worlds were suddenly the wrong way round, a wizard, _that_ wizard, in muggle Oxford? The man was oblivious to his presence, tapping rhythmically on the tiny keys of his Blackberry.  

He was so familiar it ached.

His air of authority that radiated across the scene.

His long angular jaw, and closed expression.

His golden hair now cut severely in a short crop.

It could only be…

“Malfoy?” Harry couldn’t stop his exclamation. It burst out of his mouth before he could stop himself, his voice carrying across the riverbank making the man halt his key tapping and squint over in Harry’s direction.

 “Pardon?” he enquired politely.

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he saw his CID identification badge. Another wave of confusion flooded him. At this angle it certainly _looked_ like Malfoy, although he could hardly believe it or fathom why a muggle-hating pureblood would be impersonating a police officer.  Harry walked closer, looking him up and down in fascination.

 “Draco Malfoy, isn’t it? I’d know those pale features anywhere!” He gesticulated his surprise, waving his arms up in greeting, but the man in front of him stood still, his expression neutral.

“You’re mistaken I’m afraid.” He replied calmly. “I’m Inspector James Hathaway. Oxford CID. And you are?”

‘Oh’. Harry thought. ‘That’s how he was going to play it. He’s outright ignoring me. Fine. It must be as weird for him to see me I suppose. Perhaps he’s worried I’ll break the cover he’s assumed for whatever reason.  Let’s see how long it takes for him to crack and attempt to hex me! For old times’ sake.’ A rush of nostalgia passed through him and made him shiver with its sudden intensity. He took a moment to pull himself together then extended his hand towards the Inspector.

“Mr. Potter.” He announced, his voice now professional and confident. “I’m here to consult. The body apparently shows evidence relating to my…err…specialist subject.”

“And what would that be?” Inspector Hathaway asked with polite curiosity.  

“Potions.” Harry replied with a sly smile. But James did not even blink.

“I beg your pardon?”

“P.O.T.I.O.N.S.” Harry specified, spelling out the letters of the acronym. It was one he often used to amuse himself whilst talking to muggles. “I work for the Public Office Tracking Illegal Or Narcotic Substances.”

“Ah. Drug Squad. “

“If you like.” Harry answered nonchalantly although he wasn’t sure where to go from here, Malfoy still showed no sign of cracking and he found it perplexing. However he didn’t have much choice but to continue the ruse. He was supposed to be investigating the ‘Daisyroot’ case after all.

Hathaway narrowed his eyes at Harry and regarded him coolly.  “Nonetheless, I’m not sure if we’ll be needing your expertise here, Mr Potter. Am I correct, Laura?”

He held out his arm for the female pathologist who had been crouched beside them examining the body. She levered herself up on his arm and answered with a cheeky grin, having obviously been listening in to their entire conversation.

“As usual, James. Perfectly correct. I’m afraid Mr McFarlan here was done in by our old friend Mr Gunshot-wound-to-the-chest. We’ll have to wait for lab results of course, but no sign of drug use or involvement at the moment.”  She gave him a warm, indulgent smile.

“Thanks Laura. Let me know when the report’s ready, yeah, and I’ll send Robbie over to take a look.” Hathaway returned her smile and turned back to Harry, his eyes steely.

“So… there’s no evidence of narcotics and I didn’t ask for a consultant. Why are you actually here?”

Harry avoided the question by pressing James once again. He guided him to the side by the arm so they could speak privately without the intrusion of the Pathologist woman.

“It is _you_ , isn’t it? Come on Draco!… I know we have a history but you don’t have to _ignore_ me! It’s been almost 20 years! Tell me what you’re doing here!” Harry felt his voice tighten at the end of the sentence in frustration and he realised he may also be grabbing Hathways’ arm a little too tightly.

 “I don’t know what you mean. Sir.” Said James, dipping his head and not meeting Harry’s eyes.  “You must be mistaking me for someone else. Mr…Potter, was it?”  He appeared the pinnacle of polite affability, bemused by misunderstanding. Except was that a blush rising through his him and were his ears tinged redder than they had been a few seconds earlier? Embarrassed at being mistaken and manhandled perhaps….It was _possible_ it wasn’t Malfoy.

But Harry knew better.  Ok, so he looked a bit different, he was taller, skinnier (like a bloody beanpole actually, Harry thought. _How does anyone have legs that long!)_ and his cheekbones and jawline had become more angular and elongated. His voice had mellowed and deepened and lost its hint of lisp.  But then how different did Harry look and sound after, what 17 years? He scarcely recognised himself, so surely Malfoy would have altered too.  And besides, he was _sure_ …After all, how long had he spent starting at the boy throughout his Hogwarts years? It _had_ to be him.


	2. A Second Inspector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Lewis.

Hathaway glared at Harry until a weathered hand landed on his shoulder and a gruff northern voice punctuated the silence between them.

“Sorry ‘m so late lad, was on the Skype to Lynn and didn’t hear the phone go off! Knew you’d have it all sorted out though.”  He stopped as he noticed Harry and glancing between the two men picked up on the tension there. He looked across at Hathaway expectantly. “Care to introduce us?”

“Oh, yes. This is …Mr Potter. Sorry, did you give me your rank? He’s from the drug squad. Mr Potter, this is my colleague Inspector Lewis.” 

“Pleased to meet you Inspector. I feel honoured to be on a case requiring two of your seniority! And I’ve no rank, actually. I’m not Police, although I am a drug specialist. I’m a consultant for the Home Office.”

“So the case is drug related?” asked Inspector Lewis.

James said “no” as Harry answered “It could be”. Lewis looked between the two of them again, trying to work them out.

Hathaway stepped in to make his point first. “There is _no_ evidence of a drug connection” he asserted forcefully, and Harry was transported back to their many years of quarrelling. He couldn’t help himself but match the aggressive tone.

“Except I have received information to the contrary!”

“Well, when you stop being so cryptic and vague then I might listen but until then..!”

“I know that there’s no obvious link, but someone suspects something and I have to trust the intelligence they’ve been given.” Harry stated firmly, he could feel his anger rising and his voice was becoming harder to control. Why had Malfoy always been able to provoke him so easily?

“There are procedures and regulations here you know!” Hathaway shouted. “I can’t just take your word for it! There has to be **evidence**!”

“What if you’re wrong and there is something here that your department can’t deal with? Are you willing to risk it? You know what could happen Malfoy!” The name slipped out before Harry could stop it.

“Robbie! Why is he here? There is no good reason why he should be here!” Hathaway had turned to Lewis beseechingly, shouting in anguish now. Harry could tell he was also rattled by the argument, or perhaps the name.

Lewis had been listening carefully to each side, but it seemed the use of his first name triggered him to step in. His tone was calm and amiable, but still assertive. Harry was sure he was an excellent policeman.

“Settle down, lads! Blimey. I can see you’ve got a difference of opinion on this one but I don’t see why you’ve got to bicker like little bairns. I don’t really understand why the two of you have such strong opinions on this but let’s just see if we can sort it out.”

“James, I know you want to go on with your investigation as you see fit, and follow the recommended procedures. That is commendable and I think you should be able continue.” Lewis gave Hathaway a supportive smile which was returned by a slight twitch of Hathway’s tight lips.

He turned to Harry. “As for you, I presume you’ve been asked to consult by someone higher up than us on the food chain. Correct?”

“Correct.” Harry nodded.

“Ok. So James, why don’t you go and carry on with the investigation this end and I’ll talk to Mr Potter about the drugs side, OK?”

Hathaway glanced at Harry, then at Lewis before stiffening and answering a curt “Yes, Sir. Perfectly” before turning and retreating towards the riverbank and the white suited forensic team.

Before he had made it too far away Inspector Lewis gestured to Harry to stay put then followed after Hathaway. Harry couldn’t hear what they were saying (and didn’t want to risk any spells in such a crowded muggle area) but Lewis came away with a squeeze to Hathaway’s arm which made the blonde man shake himself and walk away taller, free of a little of the tension that he had been carrying  a few moments earlier.

Lewis returned to Harry with a conciliatory expression.  “Don’t take it personally. It’s OK.” He cocked his head towards Hathaway’s retreating back “and he’ll be fine too, just give him a day to carry out the case his way.”

“Is he alright?”

“Aye. He’s just a strange lad sometimes that’s all. This case seems to be getting to him already, happens sometimes.”

“Do you know why?” Harry had no idea how much Inspector Lewis knew about Hathaway’s past, but it seemed he was going to be a better source of information than the man himself.

“No idea! Look, Mr Potter, why don’t you stay here for now, keep out of his way, and I’ll come and let you know of any new information. Ok?”

“Sure. I’ll stay over here.” Harry pointed at a nearby tree and went over to lean on it. It was well placed to hide him somewhat from the rest of the scene whilst still being close enough to hear and observe what was going on.

Hathaway continued to take charge of the crime scene, issuing instructions and co-ordinating SOCO and search teams. Harry continued to watch him, growing more and more intrigued by the quiet confidence and authority of the man. The differences in his appearance made him think of his friends and how they had changed since school.

Hermione looked pretty much the same, a bit more shapely after having two children, but more or less the same as the girl he grew up with. Ron however had become middle aged. He looked more like his father every time Harry saw him. His belly pudged over his waistband and his ginger hair had started its inevitable recline towards his crown. The stresses of having two adorable but mischievous children, Harry presumed. Malfoy certainly didn’t have that problem. His 30s had brought an elegance which no amount of pompous posing could have instilled in a teenager. His muggle suit, a skinny dark grey, clung to his body as he moved around the riverbank, twisting with his movements and showing a hint of the wiry muscle beneath.

What had happened to him? Was he married? Kids seemed unlikely with such a high level of personal maintenance but you never can tell. Maybe Pansy Parkinson had borne him a collection of pretentious blonde pure-bloods who lived abroad in luxury with several nannies. But, no, that was an absurd idea…why then would he be in Oxford working as a muggle policeman?

From his interactions with the other members of the scene he appeared to be well established here, he knew colleague names and procedures. If Harry wasn’t mistaken he’d say that Inspector Hathaway had been in the job several years.  But what possible motive could he have?

 

Robbie returned with a cup of coffee and a few shreds of information about the body that Harry could have told him anyway.

He gave Harry a long appraising look. “Do you want to come back to the station with me? A bit more comfortable than hanging around out here. Inspector Hathaway has already gone ahead to brief the troops. ”

“Yes, I had noticed he’d disappeared. Is he feeling more co-operative now?”

“Not sure we’re quite there yet! He’s a stubborn lad when he thinks he’s right!” Lewis huffed out a little private laugh.

“How long have you known him?”

“Worked with him for, what, nine years now, give or take. I left for a bit mind, retired. But I got bored… So here I am, back with the annoying sod!”

Harry’s mind was still stuck on the first part of Lewis’ answer -Nine years! That was a heck of a long time for Malfoy to be posing as a muggle. And such a long time for this seemingly lovely man to be working with him, still want to be working with him despite retirement, despite being annoyed with him, or was that a fond glow in his voice rather than irritation? Harry had to find out, how much had Malfoy’s personality changed in the intervening years? Was he still always such a tit? It didn’t sound like he was.

“But he’s not always this challenging to work with?” Harry asked.  
  
“Naw, he’s a good lad and an excellent copper. You take my word for that. He just gets a bit funny sometimes, that’s all.” Lewis said indulgently.

“Why?” Harry couldn’t help asking.

“Usually something to do with his past, don’t know any more than that though.”

  
They had reached Lewis’ car and Harry sank into the passenger seat with a sigh of contentment, he hadn’t realised quite how long they had been standing out at the riverbank. The drive back to the station was quick and conducted mostly in silence. Lewis seemed steeped in thought and Harry was almost overwhelmed by his curiosity and puzzlement over the Malfoy situation. He couldn’t even think of any questions he wanted to ask, having so many swirling around his head.

Luckily Lewis seemed to be thinking about the same thing and as they rounded the corner to the station he quietly spoke.

“Mysterious chap is our James. Keeps his cards close to his chest.”

“So he doesn’t talk about his childhood much?” Robbie looked up, startled as Harry asked the question, apparently he didn’t mean to voice his thought about his colleague out loud.

“You could say that.” He replied enigmatically.

“Hmm.” Was all Harry could say. Then a thought came to him. “Do you think it would be a good idea for me to talk to him again? Maybe apologise for being confrontational?” Harry didn’t necessarily think this was a good idea, but he needed an excuse for talking to Hathaway on his own.

“That’s a good suggestion lad, and I appreciate the thought, but I think I’d would be better if I spoke to him.”

“If you’re sure.” 

“Yes, Harry. I’ll handle Hathaway!” Lewis gave him a grin and turned the car into the station car park.

 

The station was like many others that Harry had been to over the years, corporate, bland and with the most appalling tasting coffee. The team of detectives, techies and researchers had all been briefed and were busy on phones, computers and scribbling on the massive white boards at the front of the office.  Muggle technology everywhere. Harry was used to it, had grown up with it. But Malfoy? How did he cope being around it all day?

Harry waited around for hours, (honestly, muggle investigations were so time consuming) coming up with increasingly complex reasons for Malfoy to be working here, ranging from the criminal to the psychotic. At 7pm, half asleep from inactivity, Harry was ordered by Robbie to go home and get some rest, ready for another tedious day tomorrow. Just as he was about to leave the station and try and head for the apparition point, Harry passed Hathaway’s office and heard the voices of the two Inspectors.

Robbie was talking softly and with earnest emotion.

 “You know you can tell me anything. We’ve been through this before. Nothing will make me think less of you James. I’ll be here for you whatever.” Harry was touched by the fondness in his voice and the sentimental words.

Hathaway in response was less softly spoken. His voice was harsh and sounded more like the Malfoy from school than anything Harry had yet heard from him.

“I’d like to believe that, but you wouldn’t say that if you know everything about me.”

  
“That’s crap, and you know it!” Robbie’s voice resonated around the small office but Hathaway was not persuaded by its intensity. He replied quietly, but no less steely.

“Not this time Robbie. I’m sorry.” There was a shuffling noise which Harry realised was the door opening, so he grabbed his things and crept out of the office.

Once he had apparated home, he collapsed onto his bed, head spinning with thoughts of the blonde enigma and he spent the night dreaming of castles and broomsticks, and a childhood rivalry he had never quite forgotton.

 

 


	3. The Golden Trio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry decides to ask Ron and Hermione for some help.

During the following few days Harry replayed the overheard conversation constantly. Something about it had captivated him and he could not get the memory of the office out of his mind.

He tried to think of the times he had had the same kind of unquestioning support that Lewis had shown Hathaway. It was a long time ago. Even though he had kept in touch with Ron and Hermione they didn’t share the same bond they once had. However, Lewis and Hathaway had a strong bond of friendship even though they didn’t _confide_ fully in each other, didn’t share all of their secrets. It made him consider…maybe there was hope for Harry to regain his old support networks without them being joined at the hip and forced to share every moment of his life.

Harry lived and worked alone, that is how he liked it. If there was danger he dealt with it himself and didn’t have to feel responsible for anyone else, or guilty over any accidents that might happen. He knew he could defend himself against most things. Even if he couldn’t and he found himself staring into the face of death, a long time ago in a dark forest he had accepted his mortality.

Harry worked this way despite it being against the standard protocol of the Ministry and he had had to work hard to get them to allow him to go anywhere without approved back-up. In the end he had worn them down. The Muggle Liaison job was by far the safest field role and he had proved himself adept at handling it alone.

Now for the first time he questioned the decision, seeing Malfoy and Lewis work so symbiotically during the case. Harry felt a pang of past memories, nostalgia perhaps, of days when he was never alone and always had a reliable sidekick in Ron and/or Hermione.

After the war he’d been glad they had gone their separate ways for a bit, all needing time to re-evaluate and re-establish themselves in the new post-war world. Ron went to work with George at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and Hermione embarked upon and internship with a newly formed charity helping muggle-borns rebuild their lives after years of persecution. She now worked in a section of the ministry even Harry had never been allowed access to, where all of the most confidential files were stored. (Department X, it was called, which meant that some smart alec muggle-born archivist in the 90’s had called the documents the ‘X files’. It had taken Hermione a couple of months of rigorous self-discipline not to giggle at this when giving a presentation.)

However they had never really found their way back to each other again after this. Yes, they saw each other socially sometimes, spending evenings in the pub or dining together, but it was not the same as the bond they had shared at school.

One evening, after brooding on this all week, Harry leapt up from his squashy leather sofa and strode decisively towards the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of green powder and threw it quickly into the fireplace before he could change his mind, called a once familiar address and knelt down on a squidgy cushion praying someone was home.

It took him a moment to get used to the strangeness of the fire-call, even after all these years, but a shrill delighted screech made him focus on his destination: the soft, warm kitchen of The Burrow.

“Harry!”

“Hey, Hermione”

“Hey, stranger! To what do we owe this pleasure?” She was beaming with pleasure at seeing him which made him feel all the more guilty about the length of time since they last spoke.  

“Ah, you know, just checking in. How are Rose and Hugo? She getting excited about starting Hogwarts yet?”  He hastily dredged up all memories of the pair, knowing mentioning her kids would put Hermione in an even better mood, and hopefully distract her from what he wanted to ask next.

“They’re fine, thanks – yeah…can’t shut her up about it! Hugo’s desperate to go with her, not sure how he’ll cope without her all year!”

“You’ll make it ok for him I’m sure. I just can’t believe she’s nearly 11!”   He truly couldn’t, some day it seemed like only yesterday they’d been at school- especially since the stuff with Malfoy was making him remember everything again. This must have shown on his face as Hermione faltered and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Anyway… How are you? Did you want something in particular? Not that is not lovely to hear from you, Harry, it’s just it’s been a while…”

“Actually there is something…” She laughed softly at his predictability, he cursed her under his breath for being able to read him so well.

“Out with it then.”

Harry took a deep breath and launched into it.

“Do you know what happened to Malfoy after the war?”

“Azkaban wasn’t it?”  Hermione replied with an arched eyebrow, Harry knew she was being purposely difficult to make him be more specific and explain more of his thoughts.

“Not Lucius, _Draco_. I spoke at his trial, remember, he didn’t go to Azkaban. Have you ever come across his name in any of those top secret files of yours?”  


“Well, it’d be top secret information if I had, Harry, wouldn’t they!”

“And you’d be happy to help your oldest friend out by sharing it…”  Harry gave her his most charming smile.

“I’d first be asking my oldest friend what on Earth he would want the information for.”

“Top secret, Hermione.” Said Harry with a grin, starting to enjoy the return of their old banter.  “Sorry – it’s not just Ministry high-ups that have them. I’ve got plenty of my own secrets too!”

“Yeah, right… You’re about as mysterious as a pygmy puff!” Ron butted his head into the kitchen and joined the conversation. “And we’d _love_ it if you actually had any gossip for us for a change!”

“No comment.” Harry replied, purposefully cryptic. He enjoyed teasing his friends and didn’t get much chance.

“Oh!” Ron exclaimed, clutching his hands to his mouth!  “You haven’t shagged some blonde Malfoy-a-like have you? Having nightmares now that they might be related?”

Ron laughed outrageously until Hermione smacked him on the arm.

“Ow! You can’t hit me for _that!_ It’s not like he doesn’t have form – you must remember ‘Michael the mini-Malfoy’!”

“RON!” Both Harry and Hermione exclaimed at once.

Harry started to defend himself in indignant puffs. “That was _years_ ago! And he was NOT…Not at all, Ron… How can you?...He had curly hair for a start!”

“Yeah, but he was pretty blonde mate, and he had a bit of that pompous air about him!” Ron did an impression of him, sticking his nose up and snarling disdainfully.

“Don’t listen to him Harry!” Hermione pushed her husband out of sight of the fireplace, his head disappearing with a look of barely contained glee.  Hermione tried to carry on with a more serious tone. “Look, I don’t care why Harry, honestly, but it’s been almost 20 years and I have no idea what’s happened to him. Left the country perhaps? So many others did. And after his parents and all…”

  
“I know, but…”

  
“But, nothing, Harry… consider that if he’s stayed hidden this long, he probably doesn’t want to be found. Don’t you think perhaps he earned that right?”

“Hmmm…

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry’s non-committal growl and changed the subject.

“Hey, it’s George’s birthday on Saturday, we going to see you at the Burrow?”

 Harry had received the invite but for some reason he could no longer remember, had not replied. He rarely went to Weasley events these days. Between all of their offspring, Molly and Arthur now had so many children, children-in-law and grandchildren that Harry was uncomfortable about adding another body to the burden, when they had given him so much already. But it would be pleasant to see the family again.

“Perhaps, I’ll have to check the diary!”

“Well, bye Harry. Don’t be a stranger!”

“Bye, Hermione…and Ron…I know you’re still there!”

Harry heard a muffled ‘Bye Mate!’ before pulled his head out of the fireplace, standing to stretch his back and collapsing back onto the sofa. Amusing though that was, he didn’t feel it had been much help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies... I'm sorry about the lack of Draco/Hathaway at the moment, I'm having far to much Harry Potter fun. I will get to it eventually though! Also, the word count is running away with me(as always) so I've decided to add another chapter in to make it easier to read.


	4. A Canny Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, frustrated by his own friends help, turns to Robbie Lewis instead.

 

The case had been going for almost a week and Lewis had been running interference between Harry and James throughout. Harry would usually have hated this intrusion (being ‘handled’ like a troublesome witness) but he rather liked the Inspector and had progressed to calling him Robbie.

He hadn’t seen Malfoy again other than in the morning briefings. Harry had to admit he was doing a very good job of hiding whilst still appearing to be hard at work.

Harry had eventually had to force a confrontation to try and get Hathaway to confess to his real identity. He crept back into the station late one evening having picked up the hints that James was a chronic workaholic and was likely to still be at his desk late into the night. Harry knocked on the door but stuck his head around without waiting for an invitation; he was done with being patient.

He could see why Malfoy would not want to speak to him in front of muggles or his friends and colleagues, risk blowing whatever cover he was running. But surely he would have no objections to speaking to him away from prying eyes and ears. He put on his friendliest, most charming voice and dived in.

“Malfoy! Glad to catch you alone at last. I’m still so amazed to find you here, in muggle Oxford! What’s the story? What you doing here?”

Hathaway looked up in horror, staring daggers at the intruder.

“How did you get in here? You really shouldn’t be here after hours, Mr Potter. Not without a security pass.”

“Malfoy, you can’t avoid me forever. I know it’s you!” One look at Hathaway’s blank, expressionless face was enough to tell Harry he wasn’t going to get anywhere being nice. His smooth friendliness rapidly faded, replaced by a familiar frustration. “Stop being so ridiculous!”

“I’m ridiculous?” James replied in a cool, calm voice. “I’m not the one stalking a stranger because of some bloody mistaken identity.”

Harry growled in irritation and balled his hands tight by his sides, staring at Hathaway forcefully.

“It’s not a mistaken identity, you know it as well as I do!”

Hathaway stood up like a shot, eyes burning with rage, suddenly all restraint forgotten, arms braced on the desk.

 “I am Detective Inspector James Hathaway and I have work to do! So for the last time, will you please leave me alone?”  His voice was a barely contained yell, terminated by slamming his first so hard on the flimsy desk that it made the computer screen jerk wildly on its precarious base.

Harry left the office scowling and perplexed but one last glance revealed James sitting at his desk, face once again wiped of emotion.  This made him as convinced as he had been the first time he’d set eyes on James Hathaway; only a Malfoy could conceal his emotions that well.

 

On the seventh day the case took an unexpected twist and the death suddenly appeared to be revenge of a love interest rather than anything more involved. Despite his best efforts Harry could find no apparent links to the ‘Daisyroot’ case. He wondered where the ministry was getting their information from these days. It was getting increasingly unreliable and that troubled him. However the only way to get to the bottom of that particular mystery was to get a promotion and be in a position of greater power. It was an idea he dismissed immediately as it would mean giving up this job which assured him a welcome drop of anonymity from the ‘saviour-chasers’. So he just had to be content to continue on these wild goose chases, wasting more and more time sitting in muggle police stations while they faffed through their tedious ‘procedures’.

One of these was hours upon hours of interview with their main suspect and Hathaway had now been locked up talking to him for hours. Harry was restless and itching to just drop some veritaserum into the woman’s drink to speed things up a bit. He had begun pacing the corridors like an expectant father both willing the case to be over and dreading the thought of having to leave Oxford with the Malfoy riddle unsolved.

In the end Inspector Lewis took pity on him and took him down to the local pub and furnished him with beer and pork scratchings. It helped. Robbie was a calming presence and they had got to the stage where they were at ease with each other. He chatted about football, even though he knew Harry had no knowledge of the sport, and didn’t seem to mind his agitated jittering.

 Harry was only half listening anyway, focused on his thoughts of Malfoy and worry about what he should do next. He kept glancing at Lewis’ phone to see if there was any news.

“You waiting for something?” Lewis looked from Harry to his phone quizzically.

 “No…I’m just thinking.  Can I ask….you know the other day when you said you didn’t know much about Inspector Hathaway’s past, how much _do_ you know? Where did he grow up?”

“Some stonking great estate in the countryside, lots of turrets and stables, you know the sort of thing.” Robbie said warily.

“Yes, I know the sort of thing” replied Harry, thinking of the great sprawl of Malfoy Manor.

Hoping to get in another question before Lewis decided he’d disclosed too much, Harry asked another question that had been nagging at him. “Where was he before he joined the Police?”  


Robbie eyed him suspiciously and his face became steely. “This is investigative talk, I’d know it anywhere! I hope you don’t suspect him of anything because…”  


“No! Nothing like that. He just strikes me as an odd choice for a policeman.”

“Well, you’re certainly not the first to make that observation!” Robbie grinned a wry, lopsided smile.

“It’s intriguing, that’s all. I find him interesting.” Harry looked down at the table and played with the empty bag of pork scratchings.   


_“Interested_ in him are you?” Robbie remarked, an amused lilt in his voice and elbowed Harry a little in the ribs. “I do in fact know that he is single at the moment, and between you and me he could do with a bit of company of an evening….”

Was Hathaway gay then? Another mystery to add to his collection. Harry thought back to school…hadn’t he been going out with Pansy Parkinson? Not that that meant anything! Merlin! How many hours had Harry spent snogging Ginny without realising that his attraction to her wasn’t sexual. He shelved the question with his many others and refocused on the task in hand.

Robbie was nice, Harry decided. He radiated a kind of friendly charm that put everyone at ease and Harry felt as though he could talk to him openly. He was seemingly an astute chap, even though he was oblivious to James’ true identity and the world of magic. Talking to his friends hadn’t helped, so perhaps it was Hathaway’s friends he should turn to. Malfoy obviously trusted him, surely Harry could too.

He stared into Lewis’ wrinkled, honest eyes and decided to take a risk.

“Robbie, I have a confession to make.”

“Oh, aye?”

“Hathaway and I, we actually went to the same school. We used to know each other. I didn’t want to make a big thing of it…in fact I’m not sure if he recognises me?”

Robbie’s face lit up, a moment of understanding illuminating his face.

“Ah! So that’s what he’s got his knickers in a twist about over the past few days! Hates it when his childhood rears its head!”

“He’s told you about what happened back then?”  Harry questioned, eager to unravel the mystery thread by tiny thread.

  
“Not exactly. I’ve found out little snippets over the years, it’s still mostly a mystery to me.”

  
“You seem to get on well though…

Robbie, sighed and rubbed his chin with his thumb. “Yeah – but he’s still a pretty closed book. You probably know he likes to bottle things up.”

Harry nodded in the affirmative.

“Any idea how I could get him to at least acknowledge me?”  
 

Robbie took as swig of his beer as he considered this. Explaining his answer slowly and reverently.

“I don’t think he likes his past interfering with his work. The only times I’ve ever seen him really emotional have been when we come across some old acquaintance or connection to the past. It leads him to do stupid things… Honestly, I’m not sure his work could cope if you keep coming into the office again. Perhaps you could see him in a more informal setting if you wanted to catch up.”

He set down his beer and nodded decisively.

“Here’s an idea. You seem like a nice lad, I want to help you if I can. Perhaps I could keep an eye on the case for you, make sure it’s wrapped up nice an’ neatly, no drug connections. I’ll email you any relevant information and you could come back to Oxford at a time outside work. Might spook him less.”

Harry wasn’t so sure Robards would be too keen on that idea, abandoning the case before its full conclusion, but then perhaps he didn’t need to know. The case was obviously not related to their enquiries and the thought of going home from this sterile muggle office environment was a wonderful thought.

He knew he should just leave and not come back now he had been given a way out of this awkward situation with Malfoy, but his curiosity had ben piqued and he had never been good at leaving a mystery unsolved.

He knew he needed to get to the bottom of the puzzle. But perhaps Robbie was right and it would be better continuing outside of work.

 “That’s a damn fine suggestion, Robbie. I think I’ll take you up on that offer. I’ll give you my details and a list of things to look out for. “

 

The next morning, back in his own office in the Ministry, Harry put the last full stop on his paperwork for the case and scanned through the hastily scrawled parchment, before grunting in satisfaction and adding it to a stack of similar forms perched precariously at the far edge of his desk. After stretching his arms, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his quill hand he turned his attention to a more delicate matter.

Hesitating, he ran his fingers over another file.  Draco Malfoy.

He stared at the words: Whereabouts unknown.

He knew the holes in the ministry records all too well. The place had been a mess after the war and it had been several years until a reliable system of record keeping had been perfected.

He leant back in his hard office chair and made up his mind. He would go around to James’ house tonight!

 

At dusk he apparated back to Oxford and walked through the old stone streets towards Hathaway’s house, his mind once again full of James Hathaway and Draco Malfoy.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do” muttered Harry to himself, attempting to justify why he was now rounding the corner into the street of his former enemy, at night time and against his wishes. Why did he not have anything better to do? Was he lonely too, like Robbie had hinted that Hathaway was?

He didn’t think of himself as lonely, but his friends called him a workaholic (only semi-jokingly) and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date. He racked his brains at that thought. Maybe, last March? Kavan? Was that his name? No…That had been the man with the ‘My Little Centaurs’ posters over his bed. Thomas then? Or was that Christmas? Anyway. The fact that he couldn’t recall made his point stronger. Not that this visit might be in any way related to a date! Merlin, no! He shook away the thought. Even if Malfoy had become tall and mysterious, and his deep voice tended to send a tremor to Harry’s core, it was still Malfoy.

He just needed to see him to satisfy his curiosity and quell his worries. To make sure he hadn’t hurt himself in any way.

It made no sense. If he had wanted to uphold the law he could have joined the ministry. O.k. for a few years anyone with past associations with Voldemort weren’t exactly welcomed, but things had changed pretty quickly. There had been campaigns, articles, auto-biographies and plays highlighting the pressures put on the children of Death Eaters, and the wizard world as a whole had decided to move on. Perpetrators of war crimes and unforgivable curses had been trialled, sentenced and punished but it was generally agreed that no-body should be discriminated against because their parents picked the wrong side. There were still difficulties of course, the anniversaries of particular battles provoked localised protests from still grieving families, but it was perfectly doable, there were several Slytherin Aurors who once had Death Eater connections.

Harry thought it was more likely that he’d had his memory modified in some way. A confundus charm was the most likely culprit but then he seemed perfectly alert and conscious of his actions. In fact other that not seeming to recognise or acknowledge Harry he had seemed in remarkable sharp form. Normally a charm like that would leave some ill effects and confusion. But if not then what else? An Imperius curse? What would be the point? Why would someone take such a huge risk as cast an unforgivable curse just to get Malfoy to act like a muggle policeman? Perhaps it was worse? Perhaps he’d had some kind of breakdown?…amnesia?...

It all came back to the same questions. Why did he not remember Harry and why was he working as a muggle policeman?

Harry focused all of his courage, checked the address scrawled in Robbie’s scratchy handwriting and walked up the short front steps to ring the doorbell.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter so soon! I'm staying at my parents house, so have none of my usual distractions! Hopefully another one coming soon too.
> 
> I hope it’s not too confusing switching between ‘Hathaway’ ‘James’ ‘Draco’ and ‘Malfoy’. I’ve tried to use HP names if Harry is thinking about him, whereas Lewis names if it is a description, but sometimes it has gotten a little blurry! Sorry for any confusion as to identities!


	5. Hathaway's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry forces Hathaway to talk to him.

 

Harry pressed the buzzer on the shiny front door and waited, jittery with anticipation. When there was no reply he reached up again and knocked a few times. James’ car was in the driveway and there was a chink of light showing through one of the downstairs windows, so he was surely inside. The door remained closed.

Harry knocked once more and then edged across the front wall of the house to peer through a tiny exposed crack in the curtains. He could just make out Hathaway’s outline, sitting on the sofa stiffly staring towards the hall, arms crossed and stubborn. This time Harry knocked on the window instead, causing James to startle, eyes darting wildly for the source of the unexpected noise.

Then Harry noticed the top part of the window to the left of him was wedged partially open, despite the slight chill in the air, so he shifted towards it and called inside.

“Malfoy! It’s Harry. I want to talk!”

 “GO AWAY! I don’t want to see you!” Hathaway shouted back, glaring at the window.  Harry could almost _hear_ his pout.

“Well, I want to talk to you, so you’d better open the door, I’m not shouting through the window all night!”

Hathaway stood up and faced the window, gesturing irately in Harry’s direction.

“This is harassment! I’ll call the police!”

  
“You are the police, idiot!”  Harry laughed.

“Well I’ll call me then, won’t I….and I’ll arrest you…and…”  He tried to reach the window but stumbled after the first few steps and had to pause to catch himself.

  
“Are you drunk, Malfoy?” Harry asked, surprised at the thought as it didn’t seem to fit with the droll police persona of Inspector Hathaway.

“None of your business, is it?” James replied and staggered forwards pulling the curtains together to shut out Harry’s small patch of glass. Luckily, he left the window open, so at least he could be heard, if not seen.

“Let me in, I only want to talk.”

  
“No.” Hathway’s voice had become sulky and quieter, Harry presumed he had moved away from the window.

  
“Come on! No-one will see…just let me in!”

“No!”

Harry was starting to lose patience with this tactic, he could sense Malfoy getting more and more frustrated but it wasn’t helping.

He decided to change tactic to a more radical approach and moved around to the front door, starting to beat it with his fists, yelling loudly to force Hathaway into action.

  
“I’ll tell Robbie about that time in fourth year when Hermione punched you in the face – I’m sure he’d find it as hilarious as I did…”

 

“Go ‘way.”  


“You let me in, or I’ll blast the door open, make a really massive magic explosion to light up the whole street! – try explaining _that_ to the muggles!”

There was a long silence from behind the door and Harry could practically hear the cogs whirring in Hathaway’s brain. He wondered whether he had finally gone too far and James really would try and call the police. He was about to retreat, perhaps offer an apology through the sliver of open window, when the door swung open dramatically and James’ long figure was visible in the dark hallway, slightly stooped and carrying a bottle of whisky.

James didn’t say anything or welcome Harry into his home, he merely opened the door then retreated back into the living room and collapsed back into the sofa, leaving him to look around.

Harry scanned the plain, sterile hall, poked his head into a white, spotless kitchen before finding his way to the lounge, no hint of magic anywhere to be found, not even the slightest tingle. Everything was muggle. There was a dishwasher and microwave, fridge, freezer and washing machine. He had a small flatscreen television set and what looked like a high end hi-fi unit. A set of muggle chess sat on the side cabinet and an ipod lay on the arm of the nearest chair.

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” Laughed Harry as he glanced around the bland, beige house. “You actually live like a muggle as well? No wards? Protections? No domestic spells? Merlin! Why on earth would you do this?”

Harry thought about his own house – Ok, so he spent most of his time in the muggle world, like Malfoy did, but he had a wizard _house_. He performed magic at home, had wizard photos, even still had Kreacher to look after him.

Slowly James sat up straight on the sofa and raised his wobbling chin to Harry in the first show of defiance he had seen that evening. The old Malfoy flashed in his eyes for a second, fiery and proud. 

“I gave up magic Potter. Is that what you want to hear? I snapped my wand. I sold all of my magical possessions, exchanged all of my gold for Sterling.  If you don’t like it then piss off! In fact, why are you even here?”

“I want you to admit it!” Harry roared back. “Admit that you’re Draco Malfoy – Say it!”

“I can’t.”

“I won’t tell anyone! I just want to know you _remember._ I want to know you haven’t been confounded or cursed…or….I don’t know… you’ve repressed your feelings so much it’s damaged you?   Hell. I’m worried about you, you prat! Admit to me who you are!”

 “I can’t….” Hathaway sighed. He sank back into the sofa hands raking over his face. “I’d like the past to be _passed_ , thanks. I don’t need you coming here, raking it all up again. This is my life now, and it’s muggle. My job is muggle, my friends are muggle even my hobbies are muggle…”   


“But is it enough?” Harry retorted hotly. “Are you _happy_?”

“What’s happiness got to do with it? Who’s happy anyway?  Are _you_ happy?”

Harry bristled as he thought about his own life, hiding from other wizards, working too hard and spending evenings alone. He knew Malfoy had a point, he really couldn’t criticise.

“Touche.” Harry conceded. “But I’m still not leaving until I get the truth!”

Hathaway eyed Harry’s steely expression and his last crumbs of resistance crumbled.

 “Oh God, I’m going to have to explain things, aren’t I?” 

Harry pulled up an armchair and sat down too, trying to calm himself. Draco was obviously hurting, and worse for wear, if he wanted to figure this out he would have to be sensitive about it, not his usual brash self.

After a moment of inspiration he stuck his hand into the depths of a magically expanded coat pocket, rummaged around then drew out two small vials of swirling liquid and handed them to Hathaway.

“A sobering potion and veritaserum.” Harry said, pointing in turn at each of the vials. “Don’t feel you need to though…I just thought…In case you need extra courage or a clear head.”

James scowled then took a deep breath and reached for the bottle with a pink shimmer to it. “I’ll take a clear head.” He wobbled forward and struggled to prise the stopper out.

He squinted at the bottle in concentration. “You’d better not be trying to poison me Potter.”

Taking a good swig of the potion he closed his eyes and savoured the trickle of the sweet liquid gliding down his throat.  “Do you know that’s the first time I’ve tasted anything magical for 14 years!”

“Did it feel good?”  Harry regretted this vague question after he’d asked it, sure that ‘good’ wasn’t quite the word to be used, but Malfoy didn’t seem to be paying much attention anyway.

He had his head in his hands and was rubbing his palms into his eye sockets. Looking up he became even tenser than before the potion. “Urgh. I think this might have been easier drunk.”

“You could still take the veritaserum.” Harry offered.

“I’d rather be in control of my humiliation, thanks. No need to make the situation even worse by you knowing _all_ of my secrets.”

Harry couldn’t stand waiting any longer, he felt he would burst if he didn’t find out what had caused this complete withdrawal from the wizard world.

“Well! What happened to you? Where did you go? You seemed to just sort of disappear.”

James didn’t answer immediately, instead scrabbled through his suit pockets with shaking hands before pulling out a battered packet of cigarettes and a lighter. He took his time shaking out a fag, lighting it and taking a deep, heaving lungful. He started talking steadily, in a monotonous voice as though reading a witness statement.

“After the trial, it wasn’t safe for us…”

“I remember.” Harry thought of the abuse that the wizarding community had unleashed on the cleared supporters of Voldemort, despite them only being children at the time.  “Most people left England didn’t they? I assumed you’d gone too?”

“I didn’t want to leave my mother. She was …not well.” James took another long drag on his cigarette. “A group of us stayed in England, but disguised ourselves as muggles.”

“Disguised? How did you disappear so well? No…first tell me who else?” Harry was sitting on the edge of his seat, hanging on Hathaway’s every word. He was so close to the truth now.

“Scarlet, Jonjo…arghh. Fuck.”  He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, fighting against himself. “I can’t say their names!” 

Harry leaned forward and placed a tentative hand on Hathaway’s leg, hoping the contact would go some way to show his honesty. “Seriously, Malfoy, you can trust me.” But James just laughed and brushed off his hand.

“Not emotionally can’t, Potter… _physically_ can’t! There’s a spell…” James reached over and grabbed a small pad of post-its from the coffee table. Not looking at Harry he fished a pen out of his suit jacket and scribbled a couple of names down.

Harry read upside down as he wrote: the names of Pansy Parkinson and the rest of her family (father, step-mother and younger half-brother), Blaise Zabini, Aphrodite Liphook, Mr and Mrs Slinfold and their son Brean, who Harry thought had been a few years below them at Hogwarts.

James turned the post-it around for Harry to read, and tapped the pad with his pen.

“We protected ourselves as a group. Although we would go our separate ways, we all agreed cover stories when we left the wizarding world.  There is a particularly useful charm I found that translates names in your mouth so you never slip up and say the wrong thing. It was invented by Humphrey Pyecombe in the first wizarding war for undercover spies in deep cover but also useful when trying to invent a new identity! I found it in a book in the Manor library during the war… I read rather a lot that year…Anyway… I thought it might come in useful if I ever needed to disappear. It’s a simple switching charm really, I simply have to try and say P-A-N-S-Y or B-L-A –I-S-E”  He spelled the words out and pointed to them on the post-it. “And my mouth says ‘Scarlet’ and ‘Jonjo’, their new identities.”

“It works?”

“We all cast it together and it’s unbreakable. Works however distressed or confused you are.  It’s been bloody useful at times….”  A grim hardness twisted James face. Harry recognised the look of someone battling painful memories.

“But I don’t understand why you’ve been ignoring _me_!”

“You’re the only one to have recognised me outside of that group in…15 years! And I _am_ James now, not _him_ ….It’s not _fair_ , you know, coming and raking it all up again.  But I can see you’re not going to be satisfied until you’ve got me to retell the whole humiliating lot of it.”

“You keep saying humiliating, why?” Harry questioned.

“Well, I’m not exactly _proud_ of my life.”

“So you just ignore it all, like you did me and hope it goes away? Is that healthy?”

“I don’t know Mr I’m-Obsessed-With-Saving-People, I suppose it would be better for me to be happy about all of the bad choices I’ve made, the people I’ve hurt? Would it make you feel better if I stood here gloating instead?”

“Of course not…..So tell me what happened then…”

 “After we cast the spell I went with Will.” Said Hathaway, pointing at the name ‘Brean Slinfold’

“He was a few years below us at school, yeah?”

“He’s an old family friend. He had a relative no one else knew about, a squib who had been abandoned by his family and bought up by muggles. How Will had found him I have no idea, but then we were all searching desperately for a way out.”

“And you went to live with him?”

“He was an amazing man, Professor Saddlescroft, and aware of the situation in the wizarding world even though he was not a part of it.”

“Yeah?”  
  
“Hmm. He was a lecturer at one of the Cambridge colleges, which is sort of like…”  


“Draco, I know what Cambridge is! Don’t forget I grew up with muggles too! It was always my Aunt Petunias dearest wish that Dudley would go to Oxbridge. Pity his grades were incredibly sub-par!”

“We didn’t have that problem. We invented new names, forged college applications and Professor Saddlescroft interviewed us himself.  You asked me if I was happy. I think I was then. Despite everything that had so recently happened I threw my whole self into something. I learned muggle hobbies. Rowing instead of Quidditch, driving instead of flying. It was new, exciting. There was so much to learn and explore I didn’t have time to think about the past.”

Harry understood this at least in part. He had done the same with Auror training and his work. Spent as much time as possible working so he didn’t have to spend time reflecting on the nightmares of his childhood.

 “So you studied on this Professors’ course?”

“Theology, it was. A completely new subject. I had no idea about Muggle religion when I started but soon both Will and I were captivated by it.”

Hathaway had a faraway look in his eye as he talked, transported to those golden college days.

“We started to research it heavily, going with the Professor to church, joining faith groups and perhaps unsurprisingly found something addictive in the Catholic faith. Particularly the themes of guilt, redemption and the forgiveness of sins.”

He sighed and raked his hands through his hair. Harry had interviewed enough people to recognise the signs of someone who needed to talk and let it all out. He knew it was important to get to the bottom of this tonight, who knows if Malfoy would ever want to revisit the topic in future.

“At first it was a balm….a salve for the raw wounds left by the war, a way of coming to terms with what had happened in our past. But then…well, then my parents died.” James paused and bit his lip. Harry remembered reading about it at the time. Lucius in Azkaban and Narcissa by her own hand barely days later.

“What happened then?” Harry prompted as a silence had radiated between them once again.

“I became obsessed with it all. I rejected magic totally, and I embraced the church. I snapped my wand, and joined the seminary, determined to become a priest. The wizarding world had caused me so much pain, and I didn’t know how to redeem myself there. Looking back at it now I can realise why I needed it. The church gave me a new family, a brotherhood that replaced Hogwarts, a doctrine and procedure to follow, a strict moral code. My head was filled with stories of saints and parables, miracles and gospels, and they filled the empty space where spells, incantations, and charms had been; allowed me to push the magic to the back of my mind. It gave me purpose and a vision for the future I had not felt since childhood. I was going to be a priest.”

  
“But it didn’t last?” 

James snapped out of his memories quickly and close his eyes, clearly battling some painful memories.

“Uh, something….happened.”

Harry took an educated guess. “Is this to do with Will and Feardorcha? Robbie told me a little of what had happened a few years ago.”

“Of course he did.”  Hathaway folded his arms grumpily and scowled.

“He worries about you I think.”

“Hmm. Well… after all of this time he’s realised I _need_ worrying about. But he’ll have told you the true story…Robbie’ll always tell the truth…even when it’s painful to hear. That’s what makes him so valuable as a friend.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job at being truthful tonight too” Harry replied honestly, he was impressed at just how much Malfoy had been willing to say now they were at it. “He must be a good influence!”  

“Don’t let him hear you say that, whatever you do! I’ll never hear the end of it.” James shook his head and smiled.

“Draco…You were telling me about Will, about why you left the Seminary perhaps?”

The smile vanished as soon as it had appeared. James’ face hardened once more as he continued his narrative.

 “When all of that happened, I had a crisis….It had happened again. The same as the war!”

“What?”  


“I thought I was on the side of the righteous, but I was actually in the wrong. So in the wrong that I’d caused peoples death due to the fanaticism of my beliefs.”  
Hathaway had started to become agitated. Swapping his pale detachment for urgent, anxious tension.  “I realised I had replaced one toxic moral code with another.”

Harry moved from his seat opposite to sit next to Malfoy instead, and tried to speak as calmly and rationally as he could. 

“But that’s not the same as with Voldemort! You were trying to help your friend, not support a Dark Wizard!”

“Ha. It was worse, in a way. After the war I could kid myself that I had been following my parents’ path and that I had been powerless to break away. But with the church I had no-one to blame but myself and the blindness of my convictions.”  James sat forward on the sofa, his elbows resting on his knees, and dragged his palms tightly up his face until they reached his blonde hair, little tufts sticking out from under long, bony fingers.  “How can I ever trust my own judgement again? And how can I trust what anyone else thinks?”

He tugged hard at the little hair his short cut allowed and his mouth hardened into a tight line, teeth clenched. “Now I have nothing. Neither magic nor religion, and I couldn’t bear the burden of indulging in either when other people might get hurt.”   

Harry hesitated but stretched out and placed a firm hand on Hathaway’s back.

“Nonsense, you haven’t got nothing. You’ve got your job, your friends, Robbie, Laura… and me if you want. I mean I know we’ve never been friends as such, but I don’t feel like we’re enemies anymore.”

At these words James seemed to soften a little and slowly turned his head to give Harry a tiny curious glance.

“When did you start being so wise?”

“About half an hour ago when you started this sob story!” Harry nudged James playfully with his elbow which brightened his grin further and reduced his grip on his scalp, letting his hands slide back down to rest clasped together between his knees.

Harry felt so much compassion for Malfoy then. He had obviously been living with extreme guilt for so many years. How truly changed he was. Now humble, self-denigrating and paralysed with worry over the consequences his actions might have on others.

“Are you sure you didn’t give me the veritaserum by mistake Harry? I haven’t spoken this candidly for decades.”

“I’m obviously just an excellent listener, Malfoy. What can I say- I’ve got talent!”

“Yeah, you’ve got a talent for being a stubborn twat who won’t give up. I’ll give you that!”

They exchanged grins and Harry saw a bit of the Malfoy twinkle return to Draco’s eyes.  

“Harry…. This has been surprisingly ok.” James looked between them and waved his hand.  

“Just one thing though. Could you possibly call me James? I know you still see me as…” he pointed to ‘Draco’ on the discarded scrap of paper on the coffee table. “But I’ve moved on. Cowardly as it might be. I’ve admittedly done some terrible things as James but he also has some things going for him, unlike my former self.  I’m proud of some aspects of James which I could never be of a M-a-l-f-o-y. All of those memories are tainted by the war. Even if I could call myself D-r-a-c-o again, I wouldn’t.”

He paused, shaking himself slightly. “I am trying to be brave by sticking with James this time, rather than creating another new identity to escape my more recent crimes.”

“I understand. Sometimes I’d rather not be ‘Harry Potter’ either! Why else do you think I surround myself with muggles!”

“Oh, yes…” James hissed scathingly, “It must be so difficult being famous and revered!”

“You might not believe it James, but I have just as many things to regret in my past as you. Things that haunt me and I’d rather not revisit every time someone recognises me. Being forced to relive all of my encounters with Voldemort by an off-hand comment by a stranger in the middle of Hogsmeade high street for example, is not good for my mental health.”

They shared a look, a moment of connection linked by their shared past horrors. James nodded at Harry and quirked his lips in an approximation of a smile. Harry felt sure he understood and one of the many barriers between them had broken down.

  
They sat in the quiet, lamp lit room, side by side, for a few minutes until Harry began to feel he had outstayed his welcome. James stared at his glass in silence, barely blinking. Harry could see he had retreated back into his solitary shell, perhaps finally exhausted by the ordeal of revealing so many secrets, or maybe he had got stuck on one of the thoughts or memories that seemed to plague him so much.  

He prised himself off his half of the sofa and spoke gently.

 “James?... Listen…I’m sorry I burst in like that earlier, and demanded you tell me everything, but I’m really glad we did this. I’m going to leave you to your humiliation and sulking now but if you ever want to do this again, or…you know…something more normal, let me know. Ok?”

He reached out and squeezed James’ shoulder, receiving a distracted glance and nod in return. Then, with a loud crack he disapparated home leaving Hathaway alone with his demons.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh... A long one...I wanted to put this in as one long chapter to try and explain all of the background to why I think Hathaway and Malfoy are the same character. There is rather too much explanation to fit in, but hopefully it all makes sense.  
> Please ask if you are unsure - especially if you only know one of the fandoms and i've included a reference to something you don't understand! 
> 
> What do you think? Are you convinced?

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my fusion of Harry Potter/Lewis and my attempt at trying to make sense of James Hathaway's past. I have a slash story in my head but it's rather long and I don't have an amazing record of finishing long fics so I thought I'd do this in two parts.  
> This will be this pre-slash story in maybe 5 chapters, then i'll do a sequel. Hopefully that way I will finish it!  
> It will be as close to cannon as possible for the two fandoms, with a little bit of squirming for bits that don't quite fit! Also Lizzie Maddox has been erased for writing ease - There were too many characters with her in, although I love her loads. I recommend you pretend she's on holiday. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Is Harry mistaken? What is Hathaway playing at? What happened to him in the past 17 years?


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